


i don't deserve to be royalty

by AncientGlory



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Confused Castiel, First Kiss, Fluff, Knight!Dean Winchester, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, prince!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:44:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AncientGlory/pseuds/AncientGlory
Summary: When Michael kicks Castiel out of the castle to escape the rumours that are running rampant and need to be handled with, Castiel is escorted by one of the best knights in the land- well, according to Michael anyways. After spending just a day with the knight, he has come to trust him completely, and he feels as if they had met before. The circumstances are very weird, but Castiel finds himself falling in love in just one day. How despicable.





	i don't deserve to be royalty

“One day, you will be a fine ruler for this land.”

Castiel looks up from his book to see his most trusted knight, Dean of Winchester, looking at him with a fondness that should not have been there. 

The two of them were occupying a small hut owned by Michael, Dean standing by the door with his sword resting casually against a chair near him, within an arms reach.

Castiel had been taken there, escorted by the knight only, in hopes of cutting him off of all the drama and scandals that were going to arise if he had stayed there any longer, what with Michael threatening to take over the lands of his brother and blood-rival, Lucifer. It was easier and more in Castiel’s favour if he merely left the castle, and so he did.

Michael had spoken of Dean in very high regards, so he had no other choice but to accept the offer, as the pride and reputation of Dean were at stake- Michael knew Castiel could not bear to taint it. 

In the time he was allowed to get to know the knight (who had opened himself up almost completely to him the moment he was ordered to become his protector of some sort), he had come to trust him wholly with his life- therefore, the knight was the only one he truly trusted in the web of politics and inner corruption. If Dean was to turn on him and use the sword he protected him with to point it at his heart, Castiel was not sure what he would do.

He feels as if he knew Dean through and through, as if they had met before in another past, another time.

“And why is that?”

Castiel leans back against the wall, having been sitting on his bed that was pushed to the corner furthest from the door and the windows, a modification that had been offered by Dean. The knight shrugs, the common wear that was without the emblem of Michael’s kingdom vindicating in its show of minor freedom. Castiel was wearing common garb as well, but it was less bulky than Dean’s, finer. 

“Can I not have an opinion?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

“But your opinion was not warranted. We have known each other for a mere day.” 

The statement is received with a look of disbelief and crinkles around green eyes that make Castiel want to reach over and smooth them out, much to his embarrassment.

“And in this day,” Dean begins heatedly, “I have been ordered to give all the less wealthy folk we see some of our rations, stop a woman from being taken advantage of, escort a group of young children to their mothers when they had gotten lost, and, even more astonishingly, you had come with me and even aided me.”

Castiel was confused. “Is that not what a regular person, one of the common folk, would do?”

“Yes, I suppose, but-”

“I refuse to be held by different standards simply because I am a  _ royal.” _

“I understand, my lord, I truly do, but this kingdom has seen its fair share of  _ horrible  _ royals,” Dean says, rolling his eyes in a casualness that most knights would never have dared to use in front of Castiel, “the prince of ice and stone!”

Castiel lets out a snort. Most knights and maids would not even speak to him, and so he finds Dean refreshing, like one would a glass of water after an excruciatingly painful walk in the hot summer heat. 

“When you put your words that way, I am more compelled to make an exception.”

“That would be best. I am told I am very stubborn.”

“As stubborn as an ass,” Castiel says in a poor imitation of Dean, who had uttered those words earlier when describing a merchant trying to sell Castiel an illegitimate sword, one made of those brittle metals that would break upon impact. 

Dean chuckles, a warm sound. “Yes, my lord.”

Castiel smiles, but not soon after it is replaced by a small scowl of confusion and anger. He is acting strangely. What was he thinking, talking to a servant like that? Closing his book that had been forgotten for a few minutes after folding the corner of the page he was on, he announces, “I am feeling tired. I shall… I shall retire. Please keep watch.” 

Dean is confused when he mutters his affirmative, watching Castiel rip off- well, not really, as Michael had supplied these to him as a loan- his now restraining clothing and slip into his bed. Facing the wall and back to the knight, he hears Dean’s breathing begin to quiet, trying his best not to disturb the prince. 

Dean was so  _ thoughtful.  _ Castiel hated it. 

He was so different from all of the people that had tried to weasel their way into Castiel’s good graces- he was more insistent, more authentic. A part of him screams that Dean was just a spy planted to gain his trust by Michael, and he acknowledges it with some hesitation. It was not impossible.

For a moment, Dean coughs, and that gets Castiel to flip in his bed to face Dean, who is now looking at him with a guilty expression. “Sorry.”

“Do not be. I needed the distraction.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.” Castiel suppresses a snort. Very graceful with his words, that one, when he is not required to put on a show. 

Castiel does not cease in his staring at the knight, which nearly causes him to squirm.  _ Nearly.  _

Instead, Dean holds his head higher, puffs his chest out, preens under the attention. The prince is surprised. Dean takes the challenge in stride, and he is  _ winning.  _ He does like this knight, yes, with all his quirks and smiles and authenticity. 

“My lord, is there something you wish?” 

Castiel blinks at the cheeky statement. How very much like Dean, he thought, to tease a royal who could snap his fingers and have his head hung, and one that he only knew for a day. Perhaps he should punish him. 

“Come here.” 

Castiel sits up as Dean warily steps to the front of his bed, watching the gears in Dean’s mind spin. “Yes, my lord?”

“Kneel,” Castiel orders after a slight pause, looking detachedly at the knight. Dean swallows in anticipation but complies. 

Castiel is nervous, though he does not make it apparent. It is unfair and rude for him to do what he is about to do to someone he did not know closely, but he does it anyway. He tilts Dean’s head up, leans in, and presses his lips against his. 

It may not seem to be a punishment, but to Castiel, he believes it is because he is a repulsive creature, one that wields affection like a weapon. He is ugly, he is scarred, he is, if the rumours prove true, made of the ugliest stone in the land. He hates himself, and so, he will make Dean hate him too, so Castiel will not be hurt when Dean  _ does _ betray him.

The kiss is nothing like what the books claim it to be. It is awkward, lacking the heat and passion that they write about. Dean’s lips are not soft and supple; they are dry and rough, but so are Castiel’s, he believes. Dean’s eyes are open, looking at him in shock, and that makes the experience so much worse. But that is okay, because the memory will fade in time.

Castiel pulls back. “You may go back to your post-”

He is cut off when Dean rises onto both his knees, pulling Castiel closer to continue the kiss. 

Castiel is confused, and also out of breath, so he leans back again, pressing against the hand that Dean had placed at the back of his head to hold him close.

“I don’t understand.”

Dean lets out a shaky bark of laughter. “I don’t either. Care to offer an explanation,  _ your highness?” _

“Why did you kiss back? I do not- I don’t know you. You are a stranger, yet I feel as if I have known you my whole life.”

“I believe,” Dean whispers, as the atmosphere makes it almost impossible for him to speak loudly without breaking it, “that that is more plausible than you being made of ice.”

“Why?” Castiel whispers back, following Dean’s lead. 

“Because this feels so very warm.”

Dean kisses him again, and though it is very, very wrong, Castiel can’t help but savour the moment. 

So he does.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so thanks for clicking/tapping on this qaq i really appreciate it. very roughly written because i am tired, but i really just felt like i needed to upload something, again. so once again, thank you!!   
> ::AG::


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